Freeman Johnson logged into the Colossal Machine for the first time in months. He had heard the game had been making some radical changes since he’d hacked it all those months ago.

Time to disrupt the populace again.

Freeman noticed the game-patching client—the software that made it possible for users to download and receive patches—was updated.

I should have looked for some new exploits. I better have my max-level character.

Freeman entered his user credentials and received an error:

System Message

Your account has been compromised. Please contact Pretzelverse customer service to verify your identity.

Dammit, they must have found my backdoor account. No problem, I’ll just need to steal another one.

Freeman smiled as he set up one of his virtual private network (VPN) links to access the dark web.

It took more than thirty minutes to launch seven layered connections. His bandwidth reduced every time he launched a new connection. It was a slow and arduous process, but it kept him safe.

“Now for some early holiday shopping,” Freeman said, chuckling.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

He pulled up his notepad file in a secret encrypted volume on his hard drive. If someone stole his computer and had the technical skills to find the volume, they would need to crack the SHA512 encryption to get access to his file. Freeman looked at his watch. It was time for dinner.

I need to run my memory scrubber this time. I need to remain diligent now that I’m hacking again.

Freeman copied and pasted the random series of alphanumeric codes that made up the dark web address. He was about to go to the merchant site where he could buy the stolen accounts when he received a red banner on top of the browser window. It read:

Warning

This version of MORP has a critical vulnerability. Please patch from the following mirror.

A URL of a regular webpage then appeared.

I’d better patch this, but I better make sure this mirror is safe. I need a verification hash—

“Freeman, dinner is ready,” his mother called.

Although Freeman was eighteen, he was a senior in high school. Living with his parents was a necessary evil. His goal was to get his own apartment on the mainland—or in another country—once he graduated. But those were just fantasies for now. He would need to build his hacking business up first. Freeman needed more clients like Gregor. He paid well, and in advance. But, like most hacking jobs he accepted, it took him to some shady places.

I wonder what happened to him? Freeman thought. He sounded like he was being attacked before. He was probably partying, just like he was almost every other time he contacted me.

Freeman’s phone chirped; it was his father. He texted him a picture of a chicken.

Freeman patched his MORP client and went to the dark web store. A few minutes later he purchased several accounts that had access to the Colossal Machine. The author of the listing described the accounts as inactive, but in good standing, which meant he could use them to attack the game. But getting the account for access was the first step. He disconnected from the dark web, severed his VPN connections, and then shut his laptop and headed to dinner.